


Darling Heart

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Declarations Of Love, I Don't Even Know, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Manpain, No Spoilers, Oh Tony, Pining, Poor Tony, Requited Love, Resolved Sexual Tension, So Much Manpain, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:30:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks<br/>And the kindest of kisses breaks the hardest of hearts</i>
</p><p>Tony stared at Steve, trying to figure out what his response should be. He had no idea what to do, because people didn't <i>do</i> that, nobody told Tony Stark they loved him, nobody except for Rhodey that one time and Rhodey had been blackout drunk so it probably didn't count anyway, and besides--</p><p>"Tony," Steve said, swallowing hard, his face still deathly pale. "Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparrowshellcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/gifts).



> for my lovely dearest sparrow, for the five-acts meme (round six!) to which I was (am) woefully late. She asked for ties, and desperation, and so I gave her added angst and manpain because of reasons.
> 
> Title from the song "Hardest of Hearts" by Florence & the Machine.

Tony paused with the glass of scotch already at his lips, his mind reeling. Because Steve had just said--- except that wasn't possible, Steve didn't even _like_ him, could barely stand him most days. They weren't friends.

And maybe that would have been enough to convince himself, except for the expression on Steve's face. Steve looked -- not shocked, no, he looked _stricken_ , devastated, his eyes wide and his face pale with shock. God. That meant -- Steve had really said it.

It still didn't make any sense. Tony replayed the conversation in his mind, trying to figure out where it had gone so bizarrely pear-shaped.

 _"I wish you wouldn't drink so much, Tony,"_ and Tony had been sick of it, hated the condescension and the irritatingly self-righteous preaching, like a man who couldn't get drunk had any right to tell him he was drinking too much -- and he'd snapped back,

 _"Hey, you need me, you get the alcoholism too, just be glad it's functional and not the debilitating sort,"_ and

Steve had rolled his eyes, not quite managing to stifle a snort, and retorted, _"Yeah, you're lucky I love you anyways,"_ which made absolutely no sense for all of the aforementioned reasons.

He managed to tip the scotch back and into his throat, letting the soothing comfort of the burn settle in his stomach. The warmth spread through his limbs as Tony stared at Steve, trying to figure out what his response should be. He had no idea what to do, because people didn't _do_ that, nobody told Tony Stark they loved him, nobody except for Rhodey that one time and Rhodey had been blackout drunk so it probably didn't count anyway, and besides--

"Tony," Steve said, swallowing hard, his face still deathly pale. "Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

And right, of course he didn't, what had Tony even been _thinking_ , because this was Captain Fucking America he was talking about, this was Steve Rogers, he had to have been delusional for a minute there, some kind of hallucination brought on by stress or sleep deprivation. Of course Steve didn't mean _love_ , didn't mean he loved Tony. Steve's feelings for Tony seemed, at times, to swing on a pendulum between frustrated tolerance and outright animosity, so Steve hadn't meant it like that, he'd meant something else, something -- like the way friends did, except that Tony and Steve weren't friends. Maybe Steve had forgotten that, maybe he'd been thinking of someone else, some other friend of his, someone he actually cared about who wasn't a liability, wasn't a fuckup, wasn't a fucking walking disaster, a trainwreck of a human being, really, God, what had Tony been _thinking_?

"--to spring that on you, I'm sorry, that wasn't fair and--"

Tony closed his eyes.

"--know this isn't something you expected, obviously, but I kind of wish we could at least be friends, even though I understand if you don't want me around. I shouldn't have said anything. Can we pretend I didn't say anything? Shit. Fuck," and okay, yeah, that was a surprise, because Steve didn't swear when he wasn't being choked to death by alien super-octopi or covered in armor-eating acid.

"What?" Tony managed. "You-- what? Steve?"

Steve had managed to lose his deathly pallor, was instead staring despondently at his feet with the beginning of a blush staining his cheeks. "I-- you heard me," He stammered.

"You..." he said. "You're--"

"In love. With you." Steve met Tony's eyes when he said it, and yeah, there was the blush in full force, like Steve had abruptly flipped a switch from horrified to _clichéd schoolboy crush_.

"Oh," Tony said, and he tossed back the last of his scotch.

Oh.

Okay.

Right.

This part, at least, he knew how to do, and Tony took a few steps forward, gratified when Steve backed up, as if Tony was in any way intimidating. Like Tony was something he needed to be scared of.

"Does the blush go all the way down?" Tony asked, reaching out. He tugged on the end of Steve's tie, gently, enjoying the way Steve jerked to attention, muscles tensing, eyes shocked and wide.

Fight or flight. Although really, the instinct should be called _Flight, Fight, or Fuck_. It was a good-looking reaction when he could see it on someone else.

Steve had very, very long eyelashes.

Tony tightened his grip on the tie, wrapping it once around his hand to take up the slack, enjoying the way Steve's breath caught in his throat. He looped it again around his fist, slowly, revelling in Steve's beautifully wide-eyed panic.

"Tony?" Steve breathed. "Tony-- you--"

"Come here, soldier," Tony grinned at him, twisting the tie and dragging Steve closer.

Steve lurched forward, shocked, and Tony took advantage of his surprise to wrap his free arm around Steve's neck and kiss him, just a little bit of tongue, teasing. Steve floundered for a moment, then his hands--- his big hands, yeah, that was going to be amazing -- came up, landing on Tony's hips, and Steve kissed him like he was desperate for it, like he'd been waiting--

God, he was in love with Tony, what the fuck, what the actual fuck, this was going to end so badly.

Tony opened his mouth a little wider, made the kiss just a little bit wetter, a little dirty because hey, he was Tony Stark, and Steve's hands tightened on his hips, pulled him flush up against him and--

Wow.

Okay, wow.

Yeah, Steve was a big boy all right, and Tony had proof of his attraction pressed up against him, and there was absolutely no way in seven hells or nine realms that Tony wasn't going to take that for a test drive. Yes. Okay, king of bad decisions he may be, but Tony seriously doubted he was ever going to regret this.

"Yeah," he muttered, low against Steve's mouth, and Steve groaned and dragged him in even tighter, grinding against him, and Jesus Christ on a cracker, how long had Steve felt like this? How long had he waited? How long had he wanted Tony and never said anything?

"Ages," Steve said, and Tony took a moment to realise he'd been talking out loud. "Ages-- Tony, God, I wanted you when I first saw you, I couldn't stand it--"

"Fuck," Tony gasped, grinding his hips against Steve's, rising up onto his toes to get the proper amount of leverage. "Oh, fuck, Steve-- don't worry, I'm worth the wait, sweetheart."

And Steve made a noise, low in his throat, the kind of desperate needy noise that was going to feature prominently in all of Tony's private jerk-off fantasies from now until the end of _time_ , and then he grabbed fistfuls of Tony's shirt, yanking at the fabric before giving up and sliding his hands underneath, palming at his skin. "Tony," Steve said, and Tony was going to give Steve a hell of a lot more reasons to moan his name like that, just wait and see. "Tony, _fuck_."

Right. Tony was going to have to start a list of Steve-specific kinks, and Steve swearing was going right to the top, because that was just stupidly hot.

Tony pulled back, one hand braced on Steve's chest, and he almost got distracted because oh, hey, _muscles_ , but he had a plan and he was going to stick to it. Kiss-drunk and horny was a good look for Steve, it turned out, and so he took a second to appreciate that.

He still had Steve's tie wrapped around his hand, the fabric not-quite taut. "Come on," Tony said, and yeah, that was his bedroom voice, that was Steve's eyes going dark and his mouth falling a little bit open, Steve was horny and his cock was tenting the front of his pants _because of Tony's bedroom voice_.

He tugged on the tie, walking backwards and grinning at Steve when he followed, obedient.

There were three whole guest bedrooms between the study and Tony's room, but Tony didn't want to give Steve the wrong idea. This was absolutely not a one-off, Steve had said he _loved_ him, and Tony was absolutely not letting him take that back, Tony wasn't gonna give this up. He was going to keep him until Steve didn't want him anymore.

He dragged Steve into the master bedroom, walked himself backwards until he felt the back of his knees hit the bed. And then Tony let himself fall backwards, pulling Steve down on top of him, warm and solid and heavy and perfect.

Steve kissed like he was dying for it, like he needed it more than air. It’s enough to make Tony feel drunk, heady with power, because Steve needed him. Needed this. Needed Tony, fuck, fuck. Tony didn’t know what to do with this, with the way Steve was cupping his jaw and making soft, pained noises into Tony’s mouth. Tony never got to have nice things, and Steve was a nice thing. A very nice thing.

When Steve got tired of this, got tired of Tony, it was going to _hurt._

“Steve,” Tony said, shaking, trembling against Steve’s lips. “Steve-- baby, I--”

Steve was Tony’s -- not friend, not that. He was everything, everything to Tony, he was all the good in the world and he was hope, hope for everyone, he was Captain Freaking America, freedom in tight pants, he was the guy who sat in meeting and sketched caricatures of Fury and Thor and Hill designed to make Tony laugh. He was the guy who took care of Tony, when Tony was drunk or depressed or suicidally exhausted. He was _Steve_.

Maybe Tony didn't have to give this up. Maybe he could have this, have Steve --

But no, that way lay madness, that way lay heartbreak and chaos. Tony had been Tony Stark his entire life, he knew the drill, knew how this was going to play out.

“Steve,” he said, kissing him again. “Steve -- darling, it’s, it’s okay,” and Steve was moaning, sobbing into his mouth.

“Tony,” he said, “Tony, I want-- I want you-- I want _you,_ ” and Tony dragged a hand through his hair, down his back, digging his fingers in.

“You’ve got me, baby,” Tony promised, clutching at him. “You’ve got me, as long as you want-- I’m yours, Steve, all yours--”


End file.
